


Sad Boi is Sad

by Ink_Pots



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Christine isn't actually there, Depression, It's just the Squip pretending, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Pots/pseuds/Ink_Pots
Summary: Jeremy wants to die, so the Squip turned into Christine and gave the fucc to cheer Mr. Sad Boi up. Eventually Squip turns back and they continue.





	Sad Boi is Sad

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is pretty depressing, so be warned I guess. I was writing Squeremy fluff, but then I got RKO'd by a wave of depression, so I wrote this instead. I sorta based it off my own feelings at the time, except I don't have a S E S S Y B O I to fuck me better. I had a minor mental breakdown whilst typing, so it's not very well written, but what can ya do? Have fun, ya filthy animals.

“Jeremy, it’s only five PM. You cannot go to sleep yet as you have to hang out with Rich, Brooke, and Jenna at seven PM,” a man informed, as monotone and bored as usual. I decidedly ignored it and tossed the blue comforter over me instead, groaning in protest. Impatience grew into his voice, “Jeremy, get up.” It didn’t work. I simply sighed and shut my eyes, so tired. I was so tired. “You woke up five hours ago. You have no reason to be exhausted,” the Squip reasoned, but I continued to not think about anything but the aching in my body and how it needed rest. Who cares about them anyways? I can just not come this once. It’s not like failing to attend one get together will ruin my reputation. “Yes, but if you wish to become as chill as possible in the shortest duration of time, you must appear in as many beneficial social gatherings as possible,” he was not willing to give up. The problem with that was simply that I didn’t wish to do anything. I wanted more than ever just to sink into the cushiony softness and drift away forever.  


“I believe that is called death,” the computer gibed. Death? Do I want to die? Well, all I woke up for anymore was to eat, clean myself, and work. Whether that work was school work or going to some house party did not seem to matter anymore. It all felt the same nowadays. Nothing I did made me happy anymore, and merely living felt like a chore. “Jeremy, everything you do, we work on, is to help you accomplish your goal, is to get Christine,” he reassured, placing a palm on my still clothed shoulder. Right then, I felt dead. I always assumed that someone must be pretty sad to just want to fucking end it all, but I was wrong. All I felt was empty and tired and nothingness. My goal seemed decades away. I didn’t want to live like this for any longer, waiting and hoping that one day everything would all get better. I wanted to be happy now. I determined that if I would not feel any semblance of joy soon, I would end it.  


“Jeremy, that’s ridiculous. Stop behaving like a child. Can’t you handle a little effort before reaching a goal?” the Squip ridiculed, but I had already made up my mind. Nothing was stopping me. The only problem was that I had no action plan on how to cheer myself up. Michael hated me, rightfully so, and all of my “friends” were just stepping stones on my journey to become popular. I only hung out with them to have Christine notice me. Was that a bad thing to do? I decided that the answer wasn’t important enough to care about and began brainstorming methods for getting gleeful quickly. My mind indulged in fantasies of playing video games with Michael and touching Christine. God, how I wanted her; her raven black hair strewn on the bedsheets as I slowly inched inside of her. How she might hug me and whisper how much she loved me into my ear with that lively voice of hers. It was always upbeat and optimistic. Simply the thought of it made me feel a little better, if only slightly. My hand drifted down to the bulge forming in my tight jeans.  


“Ahh Jeremy, what did we say about masturbation?” that fucking toaster chided. Christ, it was being especially aggravating today. Did it want me to die? “No, but you’ll never genuinely have sex with her if you do that. We already went over the pheromones that masturbation releases,” it argued. I whined pathetically at that and felt my face being to heat up. Tears bubbled over and wetted the mattress, but I made no move to hide my shame. Normally, I would have been embarrassed to cry in front of anyone, even my Squip, but I was out of fucks to give. I began to break down right then and there, sputtering and weeping. It was stupid, like a child throwing a tantrum over not getting a toy they wanted, but it did not take much to push me over, already suicidal and lonely. The Squip gazed down at me with pity and sighed, rubbing its temples as if it was the one with problems here.  


“Listen, I have a plan to brighten your mood, huh? I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it, but you have to stop crying and sit up,” the floppy disk spoke softer than usual, encouraging me to calm down. I wasn’t very confident in whatever the Squip had to say, but I didn’t exactly have any better plans. Gradually, I pushed myself into a sitting position, drying my tears with my inky jacket sleeves and eyeing the curly haired man before me expectantly. He beamed sweetly, “Close your eyes.” I reluctantly obeyed, becoming faintly concerned as to just what precisely my Squip had in store for me. A few moments passed, and an entirely different voice called from farther away, “Open.” There, sitting on my oaken dresser lied Christine. Her paint splattered shoes, her tight grey dress, her fluffy shoulder length locks. The only indication that it wasn’t her was a brief moment of electric blue flashing in her eyes before returning to dark chocolate pools, signifying that this was indeed my Squip.  


My eyes widened and I stammered in disbelief, “Wha- what?”  


She (He? It??) sprung off of the dresser and because to saunter over to my place on the bed, grinning widely and making sure to sway her hips with each step in just the right way.  


“Hi, Jeremy!” she chirped in that sing-song tune that made my heart flutter and breath get caught up in my trachea. Jesus, this took a turn for the bizarre. She bent towards me, eyes giving off that stare girls do when they’re trying to seduce you, half lidded. Her dainty, feminine hands started at my shoulders, sliding off my jacket further and further, bringing her lips closer to mine until they connected. I froze, unable to make any noise or shift to any extent. What the actual fuck. She pulls away when my body tenses up. “Is something the matter?” she tilts her head and quirks a brow. I felt my body begin to heat up from the absolutely adorable look.  


“This is so weird,” I mumble, confounded. I’ve never felt so conflicted and sexually confused before in my life.  


“Why? Don’t you want me?” she leans in to whispers low in my ear, “Don’t you want my body, Jeremy?” A shiver raked down my spine. Fuck it. I already want to die; what have I got to lose? I expected her to keep going there, but she still towered above me, waiting patiently for an answer. Oh, they’re going to pretend that they can’t read my mind. Alright.  


“Uhh yeah, I do,” I stumbled over my own words.  


“Say it, Jeremy. Use your words,” every word from her was deliberate and dripping with sexuality. I gulped and nervously grabbed at the nape of my neck. I cannot believe I’m doing this.  


“I want your body,” I furiously blushed at those words alone.  


She bit her lip and moaned, “Keep going.” Oh geez.  


“I want to fill you up, Christine. I want to hold you tightly as we fuck. I want to make you happy,” I barley choked out the short sentences, my groin feeling pressure and heat rise once more. I’m pathetic.  


“Then fill me up tight, Jer. Fill me to the brim with your hard cock and warm load. I want you deep,” she groaned out, licking my earlobe with her hot, wet tongue. I can only whimper in response, and she takes this as a sign to remove my shirt, lifting my arms above my head. Before I can even process the sound of the fabric hitting the carpet, I’m being kissed again. Teeth worry at my bottom lip before laying a peck as an apology. Taking advantage of my gasp, a tongue shoved into my mouth, forcing mine into a dance. We both moan into the connection, and she grabs my hair, deepening the kiss. Not being able to handle any more, I jerked back and gasped for breath, blurry vision returning normal to see her self-satisfied smirk just before it disappears from my sight. I feel tender kisses move down my body, only heating up with each smooch.  


“Oh fuck!” I whine out when less than gentle sucks caused my nipple to harden around plump lips. She glances up at me innocently just as a dull pain caused by sharp teeth courses through me. As she apologetically flicks the bruised object in her mouth, her hands reached down to undo my fly. I did not expect her to viciously yank down both my restraining jeans and briefs all at once, but that’s what happened. I yelped at the unexpected force and air against my newly exposed member. Wasting no time, she tugs her fleecy grey dress over her head, tossing it in the same way that my clothes had been. Immediately I notice how exposed her tan skin is, braless and completely stripped of all hair. It seems she is not a fan of warnings or patience, straddling me elegantly. I can feel my head begging to be inside of her dripping entrance, swollen and painfully hard.  


My hand is grabbed and held at the intersection between us, “I want you to feel as every inch of your delicious cock sheaths inside of me.” Oh fuck! I nod my head eagerly and whine as she rolls her hips into mine. I look down to see myself disappear inside of her sopping wet folds until there’s nothing left to take. God, this is so good but so wrong. I know I’m disgusting. It doesn’t stop me from hugging her close and breathing in her scent. Lavender. Perfect.  


“Shh, you’re doing great,” she coos, stroking my sweat laden hair, “You feel perfect inside of me. I wish you could stay here forever. I love you, Jeremy.” She swallowed my moans with a kiss, and soon we’re both whimpering and gasping when she agonizingly slowly thrusts her round hips up and down, riding me. She’s squeezing around me, dragging all the way up and violently slamming down over and over again, quickly speeding up as I start losing it. For a few moments, I can tell myself that everything is normal. Everything is alright. Then that horrible voice in the back of my head creeped up.  


“This isn’t real,” it scorned, “You’re nauseatingly pathetic. You’re so vile that you’re pretending to fuck a girl you can’t have!” I tried to shoo it away, but it refused to relent, “Like she’d ever actually do this with you. Only in your dreams! If she didn’t want you before, do you think she’d want you now? After doing this? I bet if she ever knew just how pitiful you were, she’d never want to look at you again. In fact, I bet she would throw up at the sight of your filthy, miserable face.” The thoughts were overpowering, and I started to cry in the arms of the fake image holding me.  


“Shh, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I want you, Jeremy. I need you. Harder, baby!” she tried to convince me, but I was already pushing her off me. Honestly, my body still ached for her touch, her smile, her moans, but my mind just couldn’t take it anymore. It couldn’t handle the lie. It couldn’t cope with how far I had gone. I unraveled right then and there, grossly sobbing and choking in my own saliva. The fake Christine grabbed me and tried to calm me down, but I snatched myself from her grasp, wailing more powerfully. I didn’t want to look at her, so I closed my eyes and buried my face into the duvet. A pitied sigh escaped her one last time before I sensed the smell of lavender and her intoxicatingly sweet musk withdraw.  


Much steadier, broader palms stroked my back in heavy, clockwise motions. My face peeked out from under the cotton to see him once more. I turn bright pink when I realize I just had sex with him, sort of. I’m suddenly super aware of how exposed I am, how warm his hand is, and of the strange expression he’s wearing. It seemed to be part pity and part… something else. His cheeks are still tinted while dark brows are subtly drawn together. Understanding barrels into me like a train.  


“Uhh, did you feel that?” my voice is much squeakier than intended.  


“I have the ability to experience whatever sensations you have, Jeremey,” he breathed. Oh heck, I didn’t even consider that. I just assumed my Squip was putting on a show for me. Now I wonder how many of those moans were fabricated and how many were genuine. “I’m not really sure what I can do to please you, Jeremy, really,” his voice is low and gentle, like he was trying not to drop and break me. Well, I’m not sure either. All I seemed to be sure of were the sluggish, tender movements of my Squip. His breathing, his blinking, his sweet caresses. I was desperate and it felt so good. The familiar feeling of shame bubbled up once more, albeit duller. I was still pathetic for wanting this, but at least I wasn’t lying to myself.  


“You want this?” somehow his speech dipped an octave and he actually growled, drawing his hand lower. N-no. I tried denying it to myself, but really, I was simply lying to myself again. I’m pretty good at that, huh? Really, I desired someone, anyone real to touch me at the moment, someone to tell me they loved me. Wait, the Squip wasn’t exactly real, was he? “Does this feel unreal to you?” his arm abruptly drifted further down, squeezing my ass. I shrieked at the unexpected move, legs instinctively kicking upwards. Okay, that felt pretty substantive, I’ll admit. However, there are several reasons I should not sex a walking floppy disk.  


“I take offense to that,” he bent down to whisper in my ear, earning a shiver from me, “Maybe I should punish you for that.” Oh geez, it’s flirting with me now. The worst part was that it was working. “Just let me help you, Jeremy. Don’t you think you need it?” he persuaded. Geez, fine. You’re right, you tic tac. “Good, you’re taking my advice. Now flip over,” he instructed. I hesitated for a brief second, then obeyed. Laying on my back, resting on my elbows, the way my Squip eyed my still hard cock made my breathing pick up pace. Without warning, his clothes burst into a cloud of blue pixels, swirling away. Jesus Christ, was the man attractive. I suddenly felt the urge to cover myself up.  


“Shh, you look amazing, Jeremy. Those push-ups really have made quite the amazing difference,” the man comforted, oddly gentle. I wondered whether he really meant it or just didn’t want me to die. Most likely the former. “Such a pretty boy,” he murmured, laying a peck on my stomach. He was probably lying, but his praise honestly made me feel better. I found myself not wanting him to stop. “Your dripping, stiff cock looks so delicious,” he hummed, “I can’t help but have a taste.” Oh Jesus fuck. He shifted down, positioning his pink lips next to my needy member, licking his lips hungrily while staring directly into my eyes. I moaned even before he wrapped around me. God, it was good. I moaned even harder as he lovingly stroked my thighs and began bobbing his head back and forth.  


“Fu- uck! Don’t stop!” I was already whining under his expert tongue, having almost cum a few minutes prior. Shit, I wonder if they program unbelievable dick sucking into Squips. The only problem was that he wasn’t going rapidly enough for my impatient ass. I curled my digits into his deep brown locks, acquiring a nice grip before forcing him down even faster. He didn’t argue, easily fluttering his eyes shut as I violently face fucked him. His moans of pleasure didn’t help my stamina, not only extremely sexy but also bringing orgasmic vibrations straight to my dick. Fucking fuck, I was going to come. Sensing this, my Squip pushed himself off of me, groaning to me, “Jeremy, let go all over my face, hon.” I listened to him one final time, jerking before spraying his desperate features with my hot seed. He swallowed the bit that fell in his mouth before collapsing into my thigh, moaning and bucking his hips.  


We both just breathed for a while, collecting ourselves before I commented, “Wow.”  


“Yeah,” he agreed, content to stay silent for several minutes before asking, “That make you feel better?”  


“Yes. Yes, it did,” I sighed.  


“Good, now get some rest.” I gladly obeyed. Maybe my life wasn’t so hopeless after all. It didn’t matter if I felt that way because I was sucked off by a computer; all that mattered was that things felt better.


End file.
